Just STFU~!

You all know what that stands for...

So we (two former reporters and some volunteers) were complaining at work yesterday about how the media are totally sensationalizing this swine flu stuff. Fear sells, I guess, but - hello! - there has not been ONE CASE in my state, and yet it's being written about, talked about, broadcast about, everywhere.

Yet 200,000 people die of regular flu in this country every year, and there's no panic. Regular flu isn't as sexy as swine, I guess.

So before there was bird flu...and SARS...and hoof and mouth disease...and leprechaun cooties...oh wait, I was supposed to keep that one secret.

As we are ranting an ad for an evening news show comes on the radio: "Killer bees are out there! One man was attacked by killer bees! (Clip of 9-1-1 call: "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!) What to do to survive an attack of killer bees!"

Again - I am in Oregon. How often does that happen? How often does that happen anywhere, for that matter?

A word to the mainstream media: just shut the fuck up. Do your job. Words shouting into the wind, I know.

And I think this just says it all

A bit o'sunshine

There is just a bit of sunshine peeking through here at the moment. Also, I got this e-mail from someone in a partner organization that we work with on advocacy issues:

I hope you know you make my day...every time I get a message from you...

I'm fairly certain he is not straight, so this was just a nice e-mail from a nice guy! It made me happy. Is that silly?

(Oh and PS - I e-mail him porn all the time...)

If I ran the store

Do you remember that awesome Dr. Seuss book, "If I Ran the Zoo"? (Yes, I love kids' books - good ones - I just realized I've posted including a Dr. Seuss reference twice in a week now.)

Well I propose to write a new one - "If I Ran the Store."

It would just be a book of rules to be enforced everywhere that I shop. Or maybe I could just read them aloud and freak people out.

Why? Because when I go shopping, if there are more than, say, 3 other people there, it is a miserable experience. So we should set the bar a little higher, hmm?

Here goes:

You will not, will not, park your shopping cart sideways across the aisle. This makes me pissed - I will not smile.

You have some kids, your kids make noise; I don't care if they're girls or boys. When they holler, forever more; please GET THEM THE FUCK OUT OF THE STORE.

You wanted bread, you touched it lots; I am now thinking evil thoughts. You buy the bread - I spare your tires; put it back, well...you get the point.

Those little carts the children like, will be the first to take a hike. (If your kid loves them, you can follow them out the door, too.)

I move ahead, you step in front; I say, "See here, you fucking..." (Oh ok, ok...)

You leave your cart. You don't return. I'm moving up - your stuff can burn.

Your phone is loud and so are you - I'd like to put you in some poo. (That would silence the phone anyway.)

The checker asks about my day - I think of something crude to say.
"I just had sex with 20 goats."
"That's sounds quite nice," the checker notes. (Why can't you just shut the fuck up and leave me alone?)

What do you think? Shall I go read it out loud at Trader Joe's?

Big mouth

Once more, the little social editor in my head is not working.

I visited with a friend twice on my California trip - and his inertia just started to get under my skin. He jokes about his "boring life" but makes no effort to do anything different...doesn't want to meet someone I think he might befriend, because it would "take time," doesn't want me and Pheromone Girl to try to think of ways to get his book (he's an author) out in front of people ("that would take time to talk to her about it"), etc.

So over lunch, I looked him right in the eye and said, "So if a gorgeous woman took you out on a great date and then offered to suck you off, would you say, 'Sorry, that would require me to spend time taking off my pants?'"

Without blinking, he says, "No - that's sex - that's different!"

He must not have been too offended because he bought lunch :)

I'm here, I'm here!

Not blogging for a few days was like going without coffee ;)

Actually, I'm "there" - visiting my family in California. On the plus side, it's sunny - I don't know about you, but sun totally affects my mood; on the negative side, everyone is tense and stressed about the economy and my grandparents, who are stubborn and slowly going nuts, and there's nothing we can do.

The highlight of each trip, though, is my little (age 13) bro, who is keeping me smiling. I shouldn't say little - he is almost 5' tall (I'm just 5'3") and on one of these trips he'll be looking down at me, grinning that he is finally bigger than I am.

Even though we're not genetically related, we are so alike that it's scary sometimes. Who also loves mochas as their favorite espresso drink? (Albeit he orders his with whipped cream, caramel sauce, AND caramel syrup...in other words, a sugar extravaganza.) He has a wicked sense of humor...he likes to use inappropriate language (no, this is not my fault!)

I don't care what anyone says - blood isn't thicker than water. I have way more in common with him than my birth (read: bitch) mother, for instance.

I tend to reflect a lot when I'm away from home. It's funny - I realized that when I'm not working I am open to being a lot more social. I had lunch with a friend, coffee with another, and I'm having lunch with my friend T again tomorrow before I go home. I wish both of them lived closer. I admire D's guts and T makes me laugh.

Ta ta until I return to the wetlands (home) tomorrow night...hope you're all having a great weekend!

How not to get chosen for jury duty

This is a guest blog by Mr. Riot Kitty, who was unknowingly skilled in the art of not getting selected as a circuit court juror. Here is his diary:

Hour 1: I had to remove my shoes to go through the security checkpoint. I checked, but I saw no fuses in anybody else's shoes, either. Watched a very patriotic short video explaining to me that the Revolutionary War, and the whole of U.S. history, was culminating in this moment that I'm sharing with 300 other people in this small, stinky room. (Did I mention that hour 1 began at 7:45 a.m.?)

Hour 2: Looking through Popular Science magazine, I'm impressed by the amount of bodybuilding ads.

Hour 3: Looking through Car and Driver magazine, I'm impressed by the amount of penis enlargement ads. (By the way, RK is correcting my English and trying to get me to use the word "fuck" more than I want to...oops, I've said too much.)

Hour 4: Eavesdropping on the inane conversations of my 300 co-jurors, I determine that I cannot be of the same species as any of them.

Hour 5: The bright point of my day! In the stack of magazines, there is a 1953 Science and Mechanics magazine. Apparently, a 1954 model year Studebaker is quite the pimp ride.

Hour 6: There are only 30 of us left. (I did eat lunch, but nothing funny happened, so I skipped writing about it.) The lot of us are moved into a room sized for 14 people just in case we missed the locker room smell from earlier. We are filed into the courtroom, after a 30-minute wait, and I am juror #4. Hooray! A backup juror, when walking past the judge, states that "only god can judge people," and that she doesn't believe in the judicial system. The judge says: "You're excused."

Hour 6.5: The defense attorney starts talking about "reasonable doubt." I ask him, "How do I know if my doubt is reasonable?" (Note from RK: He really did say this!) This annoys the defense attorney, who gets defensive.

Hour 7: The prosecutor asks if I think circumstantial evidence is sufficient to ensure my certainty ... blah blah blah blah blah. I reply, "The only way that I can be certain is if I was there." She does not like this answer. She tries a different tactic, and gets the same result. She did not like that one, either.

Hour 8: Riot Kitty calls. I tell her I expect to be sent home and asked not to come back tomorrow.

Hour 8.1: I am right!